


A Tale of Two Gods

by okami_san



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Blood, But they will get a happy ending, Daidouji Tomoyo - Freeform, Descriptions of war, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Fai is Yûi, Gore, Graphic Descriptions of Sex, I swear, Kinomoto Sakura - Freeform, Kurogane is Yôô, Kuromama, Kuropapa, Li Syaoran - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Original Character - Freeform, Parental Abuse, Pining, Real Names, Slow Burn, Torture, True Names, Vomit, battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okami_san/pseuds/okami_san
Summary: Being the heir to the throne of Varsala, Fai Flourite was used to getting things taken from him. First his mother, then his brother, and now the love of his life. What did one do when they've had enough?Written for the 2018 Kurofai Olympics.





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! This is a fanfic I wrote for the 2018 Kurofai Olympics, my very first one for this ship and on this website. My theme word was Ilunga: " A person who is ready to forgive any abuse the first time, to tolerate it a second time, but never a third time." 
> 
> If you want to vote for this fic, please do so at https://kurofai.dreamwidth.org/
> 
> Brief reminder that English is not my first language, so I will probably mess up with collocations and phrasing. If you want to let me know on any mistakes I might have commited, please do so! I will gladly fix them ~after~ the Olympics end!
> 
> And lastly, a biiiig thank you to evig_sang, who was a dear and betaed the beginning of the fic ♥
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

The water was cold. Colder than it normally was, Yûi thought, as he swam up to the surface of the pool. His face was greeted by a flush of cold air, and he breathed, feeling it enter his lungs once again. His wet hair clung to his body as he lifted himself out, gathering his cloak and staff, and walking out of the great room.

He hastily greeted the guards as he passed, going up the stairs as quickly as he could. It was cold. He felt cold. He was going to start shivering soon. The way to his chambers was a long one, so he made haste. _Maybe the heavy steps will help warm me up_ , he thought, laughing to himself. In the end, they never did.

Closing the door behind him, he blew air into his hands, trying to ease the discomfort caused by the chill. It was winter already, and although there was no sign of snow outside of the window, Yûi could see that the lake near the castle was starting to freeze.

He let go of the staff and cloak that he held and undressed himself. He went to his wardrobe and gathered the warmest thing he could find — a poncho made of his country’s finest wool. He wrapped the garment around his body, knowing he couldn’t use it to dry himself up.

He was not allowed to.

He had to dry like this — wet skin against cold air, heart working harder than usual to pump blood into his veins in an effort to help his body find its own warmth. This was part of the purification rituals he had to undergo every week.

Yûi welcomed the shivers that started running through his body, they usually helped. The wait was kind of hazy, and he thought an hour or two might have passed — he wasn’t really counting — before he felt that he was ready to go.

He put on cozier clothes, brushed his long golden hair, and knelt before his private altar to begin his prayers. He would remain there for three more hours before he got to eat his first meal of the day.

 

\---

“Have you performed your royal duties already?,” the Sovereign asked him, disentangling a chicken thigh of its body with his bare hands.

Yûi bowed his head.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“And did you purify yourself first?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The Sovereign grunted, touching the tender meat with his greasy hands, taking pieces of it into his mouth. He chewed with pleasure, and the sight made Yûi’s stomach churn. He had not eaten anything yet, but his hunger was slowly evading his body.

Another grunt came from the other side of the wooden table and Yûi turned his head to look. His eyes met the icy ones of Lady Erine, the woman the Sovereign had taken for his spouse after his first Lady died. Of all the people he lived with, Lady Erine was the one he liked the least. She often had a cruel demeanour and was trying desperately to give the Sovereign another child.

“I take it you didn’t dry yourself off after bathing in the holy waters, Yûi. Of course.”

Yûi forced himself to bow down. It was harder than it was, with the Sovereign.

“No, my Lady. Of course not.”

“Good,” she said, holding the glass of wine and taking a sip. She cleaned her mouth with a napkin and threw it on the floor without taking her eyes off him, so that the palace staff had to go and take it off the ground for her and replace it with another. That had always made Yûi’s anger rise, but he had long since learned to control it. Though Lady Erine was beautiful, with her long brown hair and silver eyes, she had no consideration for the people she considered inferior to her.

“The purification rituals are to ensure that your body and soul are clean to pray to our holy god. Phoenix is hard to please, and She will only take under Her wings the ones whose soul is pure. This is why you, as the High Priest of this kingdom, should always perform your duties accordingly.” She took another sip of her wine. “This is the only way to ensure that this land is always safe.”

Yûi wondered what would happen if he broke the glass he was holding. Oh, how he wanted to, just to let the tension in his muscles go. Instead, he smiled, said that he understood. Of course he did. He had been performing these duties since he was twelve. Two years after he had discovered his magic, and two years after he had lost the two most important people in his life.

He knew perfectly well, as well as most of the kingdom, that it was his magic and his magic alone that protected the great stone walls circling the country of Varsala against enemies. He had read countless books on many different subjects, just to try and excel at his duty. He really loved his people. He didn’t need someone to remind him of what he already knew— let alone someone like Lady Erine.

The rest of the meal was taken in silence, except for the occasional sound of chewing, of meat being broken and fruit being ripped.

In the afternoons, he visited the townspeople. He liked to know if everything was in place, if they had enough food and water, especially in the low temperatures that Varsala was known  for in winter.

He returned to the castle with baskets full of fruit and jam that the townspeople always gave him as gratitude for his prayers, together with little gems that, sometimes, were found on the mines of Varsala. People kindly offered these little stones to him, for they shared their name with him.

Yûi vaguely remembers his mother, golden hair falling like waterfalls of warmth, talking about them to him and his brother. “They are special stones, called ‘fluorite,’” she had said. “They come in many different colours. They can be green or purple or even blue like your eyes! But you know what’s even more special?”

The boys had no idea.

“If you light a fluorite stone just the right way, it will shine! You have to be in darkness to see it, though. Come here, you two, I’m gonna show you.”

And she proceeded to turn off all the lights and show the boys how fluorite crystals shone in darkness. The boys had been enchanted. The memory made Yûi’s heart hurt.

“Both of you have Fluorite as your surname, so I want you to always remember what these stones taught you today: even when times are tough and you seem to be overcome by darkness itself, know that both of you have the power to shine, and be your own light,” she said, playing with the gems as the candlefire projected their shadows on the wall, while two sets of very attentive eyes observed every movement of hers.

 

\---

Because he was in his day of purification, he wasn’t allowed to go to supper, so he returned to his room after dinner. He would continue his prayers throughout the night, and hence couldn’t eat anything during this period.

In the middle of the night, his belly rumbled, and he eyed the jam greedily. But he didn’t want all his effort to go to waste. To see to his people, in the beginning of Varsalian winter, was what had him going on, without regrets, through all those years.

So, after some hours had passed, he checked the sky to see what time it was, then opened the door to take a look at the corridors. There was nobody to be seen, and the few guards that were there were already sound asleep.

So he went to his cloak, searched into its pockets, caught the herbs that he had bought that day at the market, and hurried to his altar, slowly burning them in the candles that he had lit. He always waited until nobody could see him or smell the smoke that emanated from his room, to start his prayers to Him; to the Listener.

For twenty minutes or so, he was not disturbed.

And then…

“Is this thyme?”

Yûi turned abruptly, heart at his throat, and there, at the door to his room, stood a pair of very silver eyes.

“My Lady,” he gasped.

She approached him with long strides, a cold, disgusted expression on her face. Yûi actually felt himself start to tremble. Not because of himself, but because of the _consequences_ …

“You are out of your mind, child. You think I wouldn’t know the smell of thyme? You think I wouldn’t know what the smell of thyme coming from _your_ room would mean?”

“My Lady,” he started, standing up. “Please let me explain.”

“Silence! You insolent, childish boy! Are you trying to destroy us all? Burning thyme and using it to pray to… To Dragon!”

“My Lady… Dragon and Phoenix are two sides of the same entity. Dragon is Phoenix’s spouse, there is no reason why Dragon should be considered a lesser god in the kingdom. Milady, you do know the legends, you were born before I was!”

Yûi could see the veins on Lady Erine’s head start to show. She fumed, and suddenly her hands were on him, her claw-like fingers closing around his neck. He felt the passage of air in his throat thinning and his chest heaved, desperate for more supply.

“You will pay for this. Because of you and your vile urge to disobey this country’s laws, the people will suffer! Is this what you wanted? To cause suffering to your Sovereign’s people?”

Yûi felt his throat burn, his eyes sting. It was like his very heart was being torn to pieces. It was too much.

“The people of this country are happy and safe _because_ I prayed to both Phoenix and Dragon ever since I was a child! They are my people too, why would I ever want to cause them any harm?”

“Because you are evil, boy,” Lady Erine said, wearing a maniacal expression, thin lips stretched in a smile on her face, “You are shameful. And your twisted, wrecked little mind wanted the throne for yourself.”

Yûi could not believe his ears.

“What?”

“Do you think I don’t know what you did to your mother and brother? Condemning them to death just because you wanted your father’s throne to yourself? By repeatedly praying to that filthy dragon god?”

“Stop!” He could not hold back his tears now. They were falling freely through his face, and the pain was almost unbearable. He wanted to hurt that woman; he wanted to leave that place. He wanted to be alone and never be made to pray again.

“I will not allow you to ever try and murder us all again.” Then she turned her head to the door. “Guards.”

Two big men with heavy armour entered his bedroom. Their helmets were on, so Yûi could not see who they were— perhaps on purpose. They took Yûi by his arms, one man at each side of him, and carried him outside of the room, then out of the castle.

Lady Erine followed close behind, her steps neither hurried nor worried. Yûi squirmed against the grip, trying to get free. Both men were hurting his arms. He quickly thought of ways he could escape. The easiest one was through magic: he knew he was good at attack magic. They were now nearing the river and Yûi felt his muscles tighten. He readied his hand, about to use the spell, but something made his arm stop. Pity, maybe? He could hear his heart pounding so loudly in his chest, full of hatred and sadness, that he halted his movements.

This was it, wasn’t it? After all those years of serving the people of Varsala and caring for them, this is how it would end for him. He fought the despair he felt blooming in his chest, fought the fear that made his hands tremble and his eyes water. Felt the weight of the loneliness deeply ingrained in the core of his chest and welcomed it. Welcomed his destiny. Hitsuzen, his mother had once told him. The inevitable.

He stopped struggling. Eased the tension in his muscles. Lowered his head.

Closed his eyes.

Accepted.

The sound of the cold water flowing in a strong current was almost a calming one. He could already feel tiny droplets of water spraying on his face, making his clothes wet. Then somebody shifted next to him, and his hair was gripped in a tight fist, lifted painfully.

“I thought of you as a son, you know,” Lady Erine sighed, then slowly laughed, and the sound made Yûi feel sick. “Well, I guess now I will just have to provide the Sovereign with another heir, one that can replace you in the succession to the throne.”

Yûi felt the side of her boot connect forcefully with his scalp, before he was thrown into the river. The cold and the pain mixed with the lack of air. The current was too strong, dragging him down with the force of the water, and he couldn’t breathe properly. His body started to betray his mind by instinct, trying to stay alive, but his consciousness was evading him. In that very moment, he thought of his brother, and the thin strand of the memory Yûi had made him into flowed into his brain.

He doesn’t remember much of what happened then. He remembers muttering one incantation, the familiar warmth of it against his skin, remembers breathing freely, his lungs welcoming the new surge of air inside his body, before he was consumed by darkness and the deafening sound of the water surrounding him.


	2. Act 2

There was comotion down the river. People were gathering there, more and more, coming from different parts of the city centre. Some carried baskets of fruit with them, some had water in vessels. They were clearly headed to the city market downtown, but they still went out of their ways to see what was happening, the chilly water of the river up to their ankles. Perhaps it was because someone had caught a really big fish, perhaps because of a child that had gone too far, got too much into the water despite their parents’ warning.

Whatever it was, Yôô didn’t like it one bit.

He walked towards where people were going to, moving through the bushes, until he reached the river. What he saw amongst people’s shocked faces was a man, seemingly unconscious, laid out on the river bank. His face was pale (truly pale, Yôô considered, seeing that the man’s skin was already pretty fair) and the clothes he wore were just… plain strange.

“What happened here?”

“We don’t know, Kurogane-sama”, said an elderly lady. She carried some apples with her, and looked worried. Water had made the hem of her kimono wet. Yôô knew her from the town market; she was a nice lady who always gave him one or two of her apples whenever she saw him, ever since he was a child. Yôô liked her. “He appeared out of nowhere. One of Samiko-san’s boys saw him and warned us. We don’t know where he is from.”

Yôô sighed, digesting the information. “What a nuisance.” He walked to the man in the water and stopped for a few seconds before leaning down and taking him in his arms. He couldn’t continue on the freezing water, or else he would die there. The river was extremely cold that time of the year.

With practice, he checked for his vital signs. The man still got pulse and was breathing steadily, albeit shallowly. Troublesome, indeed. He quickly thought to himself about the next course of action. Muttered a curse. _I don’t remember signing up for this._

“You can return to your activities”, he called out to the people. “I’ll handle this one.”

He waited until he could see the crowd dissipate, still sharing murmurs, before following the path to his house.

 

\---

The man weighted nothing. It was like he had carried a bag of wet clothes home - and nothing more. It would be worrisome, but for some reason Yôô just found it plain irritating. He still had no clue who that person was.

His mother had been shocked when he first appeared with him in the front door, but she surprisingly didn’t ask any questions.

“Dragon forbid”, she whispered, face pale. “Yôô, come quickly, bring him in.”

She made space for them to enter the house, and hurriedly asked the houseworkers to prepare a bath and steady one of the place’s guestrooms.

“Tomoyo?” She called. “Tomoyo, are you upstairs? Could you come here, sweetheart? Come quickly, my dear!”

Yôô saw it as the girl descended the stairs, eyes wide in concern at being regarded in such haste. He could see her face becoming pale upon the sight of the man, as she quietly muttered under her breath. “He's here...”

Yôô frowned. How could she possibly know him? Had she dreamt of him?

“Yes, he is.” His mother agreed, and that unnerved him. “He looks terribly ill. My dear, if it wouldn't disturb you, could you please get him some clothes? Make sure they are warm.”

“Right away, ma'am.” Tomoyo seemed content with her new task, and scurried up the stairs.

The absurdity of the situation was already enough to make Yôô’s head start to pound. He got the distinct feeling that he was the only one who was missing information there, and that did not sit well with him.

“Mother, can you please tell me what's going on?”

“There is no time now, Yôô.” She said, rolling up her sleeves to get them out of the way to her hands. A housemaid excused herself into the room to declare the bath had been readied, and she thanked her, walking his way. “Hand him to me, love.”

His mother was surprisingly strong for someone so little. She easily held the blond - who was clearly taller than her, despite his light weight - and glanced at Yôô before exiting the room. She paused, then, standing there as the seconds passed. The look she gave him was full of meaning and, if Yôô knew his mother well (he did), compassion. It wasn’t strange coming from her. But it was when directed to _him_.

“Mother…”

She seemed to come to her senses then, and shook her head. “It’s nothing, love, don’t mind me.” She smiled. “Please tell your father where to find me, if he comes home from the fields soon.” And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom.

Yôô was left there, feeling a little numb still, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what had happened. He knew his mother was probably undressing the man now, to search for injuries and help him take a bath. But it was strange, still, to have his house in utter commotion because of a stranger he supposed nobody knew nothing about. A random one, one that he found by the riverbank. He suddenly felt tiredness creeping its way under his skin, his eyelids beginning to tremble. So he sat on the floor, closed his eyes, and waited.  

 

\---

“He’s something else, isn’t he?”

“Hm.”

Yôô could not deny it.

He really was something else.

Now that he had been cleaned, his wounds treated and there was a healthy, rosy tint to his cheeks after he regained some warmth in his body, he could really take a look at his face, observe the man’s features.

He was elegant, almost delicate-looking. His face didn’t have very sharp angles, and the contour of his jaw was soft. Not like his, like Yôô’s. No. Yôô had the body of someone who had worked for long seasons in the fields of Nagano, under the torrid sun. His skin was tanned, his face was used to scowling. His hands were rough and calloused from the years spent handling hoes and swords, learning to defend his land.

The man’s hands were white and soft, Yôô knew because he had touched them when he helped his mother take him to bed. Soft and thin, and his fingers were long. They were connected to equally long, lanky arms, so pale he could see his veins under his skin. His hair was a silky disarray of gold, falling in ribbons down his neck and chest.

Yôô was not a hypocrite; the man was beautiful. _Really_ beautiful.

And Yôô wanted to know how he got the big cut at the top of his right cheek.

Could have been because of the river. By the looks of it, Yôô guessed it wasn’t.

“I wonder if he is gonna be ok.”

Yôô looked at his mother, who sat across from him, circling the man’s bed. She looked worried, and eyed the blonde with pity in her eyes. The feeling of being left out of the true situation returned full force, and he forced himself to keep it down. His mother would have told him had she wanted to, and it wasn’t his place to demand answers from her.  Not now, anyway.

“Of course he will. Your healing powers have always been incredible.”

She looked at him with slightly teary eyes and a grateful smile. Yôô felt his heart ease at the sight of her. “Thank you, my love.”

Yôô did his best to return the smile, so as not to make his mother worried, before turning his head to contemplate the man for the last time that day.

 

\---

When Blondie woke up, his mother was by his bedside.

“Good evening”, she said, warmly. Yôô saw as the man blinked once, twice, before his eyes tried to focus on her face, his eyebrows furrowed. It was as if the soft light that emanated from the candles in the bedroom hurt him physically. His suspicions were confirmed when he held a hand to his temples, groaning.

“Oh…”, he said, weak, still blinking heavily. “Where… where am I?”

Blondie tried to sit, then, but his movements still lacked finesse. His mother helped him, holding the man by his waist. He thanked her, finally looking up without having to strain his eyes too much.

“You are in Nagano, dear. You were found by the villagers, by the river. You came to our land together with a heavy winter current. You are extremely lucky to be alive.”

“Oh”, the man said again, seemingly remembering something. His eyes were glassy with memories. “I’m sorry, my Lady, but… who are you?”

Yôô interrupted right when his mother was about to answer. He couldn’t bear this no longer. “Look here, you”, he snarled, “This woman owns you no answer. You, on the contrary, should at least be explaining to her who _you_ are instead.”

The way his mother looked at him was reprimanding, heavy with disapproval, but Yôô couldn’t care less. He had had enough bullshit already. Blondie looked at him wide-eyed, as if taken aback by his bluntness. He smiled, then; a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and Yôô immediately disliked it.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners, right? My name is Fai.” He was looking at his mother when introducing himself, but his gaze turned to Yôô at his next words: “I unfortunately do not remember my family name or where I come from, though.”

Yôô saw as his mother gave Blondie (or Fai, it seemed) a rather pitying look, but Yôô himself didn’t even flinch at the information. He knew he was lying. His face was unmoving from that terrible excuse of a smile, and he seemed far too happy for someone who didn’t remember anything about his family.

“Don’t worry, child. While you recover, you are welcome to stay here with us.”

And while Fai’s smile didn’t waver, it grew a bit more sincere at those words. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Yôô sighed.

 

\---

It didn’t take long for Fai to be welcomed into the family and into town. His mother looked at him adoringly, like he was her own son. His cousin could spend hours talking to him about fabrics and garments worn in Nagano and the differences between kinds of sewing machines, and Yôô wanted to murder someone, because not only did he listen to her attentively, but he also seemed genuinely interested in everything she had to say, and thus the way to her heart was also gained.

Hell, even his father seemed to have a soft spot for Fai, and recognized in him a great warrior. It was something Yôô had already decided the man was, or else he wouldn’t have survived the heavy current of the river. Fai was a good fighter, but also a diplomat, someone who knew how to treat people. Everybody in town, albeit at first suspicious of his appearance (with his blond hair and eyes bluer than the sky), were placated by his kind nature. He slowly gained their trust and now walked amongst them as if he belonged.

The fact that only Yôô seemed to dislike the man was unnerving at best.

And the fact that Fai knew was, oh God, the worst.

Because Fai did not just leave him alone to stay with people who already liked him.

Oh, no.

He was decided to make Yôô’s life a living hell, instead.

“Kuro-tan!” He chanted, dancing his way toward Yôô. “What are we going to do today?”

“I told you not to call me that already.”

“Oh, but Kurogane is so long. It’s tiring. Bothersome to say. It has, like, four syllables, see? What kind of name has four syllables? Now, really pay attention to it to see if I’m not right! Ku-ro-ga-”

“I know what my goddamn name sounds like already!”

“Oooh, so angry, Kuro-pi”, Fai chirped, inventing yet another terrible nickname. “Oh, I really like this one!”

He hadn’t wanted the man to call him by his true name, so he had never revealed it to him. That was reserved only to his family and closest friends. He introduced himself to Fai as Suwa Kurogane.

His mother, father and cousin respected his wishes, and called him that when in the presence of the man, the very same way the citizens of Nagano called him. Even Syaoran was instructed not to call him Yôô when Fai was around. Not when Fai was not part of the family.

Not when he felt he could not trust Fai.

And yet, the nicknames were really, really annoying. Yôô could already feel the beginnings of a migraine start to pound in the front of his skull. He was going to murder the blonde.

“Look, call me whatever you want. I don’t care. Just get out of my way already and leave me alone.”

Fai seemed to gain a gloomy expression at his words, but Yôô knew it was only an act. “Why do you dislike me so much, Kuro-pupu?”

_Well, the nicknames are a starter, but..._

“Because you are a liar.” And it was true. Fai was a liar, and Yôô just couldn’t understand _why_. “And I hate people who lie. Always have, always will.”

The man paused, and had the decency to look almost ashamed. Sad, if one observed well. The mask that was so meticulously attached to his face was suddenly not there anymore. Of all the people in Nagano, Yôô was apparently the only one who could do this, make Fai’s mask fall apart. His mother came close, and yet she couldn’t reach far enough. Even with Yôô, it  happened only sometimes. He didn’t know how he did it. He wished he knew. “You hurt my heart, Kuro-rin. Everybody tells lies once or twice.”

“I don’t.”

He pretended not to see the shock on Fai’s face.

“Not even little ones?”

“What’s the point in doing that? People are gonna find out the truth one way or the other. It’s best to be sincere from the beginning.”

Fai’s eyes then turned down, his expression forlorn. Yôô felt he wasn’t acting this time, and had the strange urge to comfort him. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, though he berated himself, sighing. Apparently, the only moment he liked Fai was when the man was showing his true self.

“Yes, Kuro-sama.” He muttered, tiny voice escaping his throat like sandpaper and Yôô wanted to hold him. Wanted to beat him and hug him. “I suppose you’re right.”


End file.
